In the Shadows
by allshewrote86
Summary: Ever wonder why a Slayer with accelerated healing abilities was susceptible to the flu? Or just how Spike got out of that wheelchair? A slightly AU retelling of season 2 that seeks to explain a few strange occurrences. Begins with "Killed by Death."
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: All recognizable names and places associated with _Buffy the Vampire Slayer _are property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy productions. Anyone/thing you've never heard of is probably mine.  
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**Prologue**

Buffy Summers wasn't supposed to get sick.

The Slayer package came standard with accelerated healing abilities and an uber-strong immune system. Bruises disappeared in hours, cuts closed without stitches, and broken bones mended in days. Buffy hadn't been to a doctor since she turned thirteen and her mother dragged her in for one of _those _kind of check-ups. She hadn't been in a hospital since her cousin Celia died when she was eight.

Both were traumatic experiences Buffy tried hard to repress.

But now, in some small part of her feverish brain, Buffy was lucid enough to realize that Slayers weren't supposed to get the flu. They weren't supposed to pass out in cemeteries while partaking in the sacred act of slayage—how pathetic was that? Some small part of Buffy also knew she was going to feel humiliated when she finally came to her senses. She had actually _fainted _in front of Angel.

_Angel_.

Buffy groaned at the thought of her vampire ex-boyfriend-turned-nemesis prowling around with Sunnydale unprotected. She had to get out of this hospital. She had to stop Angel—no, _Angelus_—from killing again.

Swallowing against the waves of nausea she shouldn't be feeling, Buffy managed to roll onto her side and prop herself up on trembling elbows. Even the small amount of movement was exhausting for the normally resilient young demon hunter. Who knew the Slayer strength and stamina could be zapped by some virus?

"Hold it right there, Missy."

"Huh..Uh?" Buffy blinked hazily up at the young doctor who seemingly appeared out of nowhere and pushed her back against the pillows.

At least, Buffy thought the pretty redhead was a doctor. She was wearing a white lab coat over blue scrubs, and there was a pink stethoscope slung over one shoulder. In the dim night lighting of the hospital room, however, she didn't look much older than Buffy.

"Just where do you think you're going?" The doctor's tone was agitated, but her movements were gentle as she deftly straightened out the stiff cotton sheets and plastic IV tubing in which Buffy had become hopelessly tangled.

"Mmm not 'posed to be here," Buffy mumbled, too weak to resist being tucked in by a professional.

"Oh yes, you are," the doctor replied absently as she removed a bag of blood from the hook next the bed and replaced it with one of clear liquids. "Believe me."

Buffy thought that was kind of weird. If they were giving her blood, shouldn't the bag be empty instead of full?

"Whatcha doin?" Buffy slurred, her vision blurring around the edges. Something didn't seem quite right about this woman, but she was just … too … tired to care. The fever must be making her spidey sense wonky.

The doctor paused, blood bag in hand, and regarded Buffy thoughtfully for a moment. With a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure no one was looking, she leaned in close and placed a perfectly manicured hand on Buffy's burning forehead. Her mesmerizing sea green eyes captured the Slayer's undivided attention.

"Everything's fine, Buffy," the doctor promised, soothing the agitated Slayer with her beautiful voice and smile.

A feeling of complete and utter calmness washed over Buffy, who was suddenly willing to believe anything the pretty lady said.

"Now, go to sleep," the woman ordered. "And when you wake up, you won't remember me. Okay?"

"'Kay," Buffy mumbled, settling back into the padding. She managed a sleepy smile of her own before her eyes slipped closed.

Then, with a contented sigh, the Slayer fell into a deep sleep.

And with a satisfied smirk, the doctor quickly sealed the blood bag and slipped out of the room undetected.

It was a busy night at Sunnydale General thanks to a nasty strain of flu sweeping through town. None of the hospital personnel batted a suspicious eye as the young woman strode confidently down the hallway, and ducked into the doctor's locker room.

When an attractive brunette with striking green eyes exited the hospital ten minutes later, no one suspected she had a red wig and a bag of fresh Slayer blood tucked away in her designer shoulder bag.

**AN: First story! Please review!**


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Spike hated the mansion.

It was ugly, creepy, and oddly out of place—what kind of ponce builds a house modeled after a Mayan temple in a town like Sunnydale anyway? Spike missed the factory, with its cozy atmosphere and big screen telly, where he could watch _Passions_ while Dru was sleeping or playing with her dolls.

There was nothing to do here but roll his wheelchair out into the garden and watch the moonlight waxing on the night-blooming jasmine blossoms. He might as well start writing poetry again.

"William the Bloody turned bloody awful poet again," Spike muttered as he reached for a bottle of whiskey that was sitting next to him on a stone patio table. "Sodding brilliant."

Spike brought the bottle to his lips and took a generous swig, closing his eyes as the burning liquid brought some semblance of relief to the pain flaring in his slowly healing injuries. Vampires were normally quick healers, but Spike's back and legs had been completely shattered when that pipe organ had collapsed on him. It was taking a while to bounce back.

Of course, he might heal quicker if someone was actually around to give him the proper care. It was ironic, Spike thought, that he had gone to so much trouble restore Drusilla to full strength only to end up an invalid himself.

"And now she's out trailing around after her precious Angel," Spike grumbled, wishing the alcohol would do more to numb the pain caused by his absent lover. "Where's the gratitude, eh?"

Dru's little white dog, Sunshine, was happily chasing a night beetle around Spike's wheelchair. Suddenly, she abandoned her prey and began barking toward the house.

"Oh, shut your gob before I change my mind about eating you," Spike warned, annoyed that he couldn't simply reach out and kick the yapping thing.

"Oh. My. God," a softly accented British voice commented dryly from behind Spike. "This is even more pathetic than I expected."

As fast as he could in the bulky wheelchair, Spike spun around to face the intruder.

Standing in the archway created by the ornate glass doors leading into the house was a breathtakingly familiar young woman.

"Nessa," he gasped, drinking in the sight of his former protege.

Her rich brown hair was longer now, falling across her shoulders in thick, soft curls. Her striking green eyes were still fringed with long, dark lashes, and her full, sensuous lips were painted their trademark crimson red. She had always been shapely and somewhat athletic, but her formfitting dress made it obvious that her body was now finely toned.

"Hello, William," Vanessa said, smiling fondly at the vampire.

Spike watched closely as his girl sashayed further into the garden, high heels clicking lightly on the stone patio. She was dressed head-to-toe in black Prada, looking very much the part of a wealthy European socialite. It suited her now. At seventeen, she had still been a little girl trying to convince the world she was a grown-up. At twenty-two, she appeared to have finally grown into the persona she invented for herself. Vanessa Cabot was now every inch a woman.

And a dangerous one, at that.

"What are you doing here?" Spike asked, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that she was standing here ... in Sunnydale ... in Angel's house.

Angel.

"You have to go," Spike snapped, fog clearing. "Now. Before he sees you."

"Who, Angel?" Vanessa asked, unconcerned. She walked past Spike and primly took a seat on one of the stone benches. "He won't be back until just before dawn. Dru's not the only one who can see the future, remember?"

Rolling his chair around again, Spike glared at her.

"Weren't you the one always telling me that the future is constantly changing?" he said, frustrated by her naive dismissal of the very real danger that was his grandsire. "How could you be sure there was no one else in the house? We still have minions, you know."

"I can read vampire minds just as easily as human," Vanessa replied smugly. "I scanned the place for brain activity before setting foot on the property. I knew it was clear."

Realizing the new girl was friend instead of foe, Sunshine stopped barking and tentatively ventured over to sniff at Vanessa's leather boots. With a practiced flick of her wrist, Vanessa used her telekinesis to send the annoying creature sliding gently across the patio.

Spike fought back the urge to smile as Sunshine let out a terrified yelp before disappearing into the shadows, tail tucked between her stubby little legs. What his girl wouldn't do to protect a pair of expensive shoes.

"You can't read Dru's mind," Spike reminded Vanessa, knowing that she couldn't read his mind for the same reason. Psychic abilities didn't work on other psychics.

It was part of the reason he had become so drawn to Vanessa in the first place. As an empath, Spike had the ability to read and influence the emotions. Of course, he hadn't always known he was a psychic. He just knew he was very skilled at reading and manipulating people, using their desires and fears against them.

It was this talent that helped him kill two Slayers.

With Dru, of course, his senses had always been a little off. But he chalked that up to her being his sire and all the mixed feelings that came with the complexities of that particular connection.

It wasn't until Spike stumbled across a runaway teenage girl hiding in Amsterdam that he realized there was someone in the world he truly could not read. Her feelings were a blank slate to him, a complete and total mystery. Add that to the other extraordinary mental powers she exhibited, and Vanessa Cabot became a puzzle that William the Bloody just had to solve.

Vanessa was similarly drawn to Spike, both because the telepathic girl had never met someone who's mind she could not read, and the mutual attraction all psychics felt—but that was another tidbit they figured out later. Spike now suspected it was this supernatural pull that had drawn Drusilla to William when he was crying in that London stable all those years ago.

He had never bothered trying to explain any of this to Dru.

Instead, the vampire had accepted Vanessa's offer to become his "Day Person." She handled any errands that needed to be run in the daylight, and in exchange he protected her from the Watchers who were relentlessly pursuing her across Europe. The unlikely pair had parted after three years of partnership, each with a better understanding of their powers.

Spike may have solved the puzzle of Vanessa the psychic, but if tonight was any indication, he still had a long way to go in understanding Vanessa the girl.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" he asked again, exasperated. First Angelus, now Vanessa. What was with all the bloody reunions?

"Since Angel turned Dru against you, I thought maybe you could use some help," she replied, as though it should be obvious.

"Dru's not against me," Spike bristled, both at the suggestion Dru was unfaithful and that he was helpless to do anything about it. "How did you find out about this anyway? Hear about it from one of your demon connections?"

Vanessa's eyes narrowed.

"If you mean the same demon connections that helped me discover a cure for Dru," she said coldly, reminding Spike he had not hesitated to call for help when his beloved was in danger. "Then no. I had a vision of a tall, dark, and formally brooding vampire taunting you in this wheelchair and decided to come pay a debt to an old friend."

Spike sighed at that, anger deflating. He really shouldn't have been surprised to see her. They kind of had a habit of saving each other.

"He's going to kill you, Will."

Vanessa said it softly, but with enough certainty for Spike to know she had seen it in one of her visions. The anguish in her green eyes also told the vampire that his demise wasn't going to be pleasant.

"I've come to stop it."

"No."

"Will ..."

"No," Spike said more firmly. "You're no match for Angelus."

"I've killed vampires before," Vanessa protested, showing just a hint of that stubborn little girl Spike remembered. "You taught me."

"Angelus is no ordinary vampire. He won't just kill you. When he found out Dru was a seer, he tortured her until she lost her sanity—and that was before he sired her. When he finds out what you can do, Nessa ..." Spike broke off abruptly, shaking his head to clear the mental images he was sure would haunt his future dreams. "He can't find you here."

"Then let's go," Vanessa urged, just the barest hint of desperation in her voice. "I'll charter us a jet with tinted glass, and we'll be in my Paris apartment by this time tomorrow night. With a little blood and proper care, you'll be back to your old self in no time."

"I'm not leaving, Dru."

Spike appreciated the gesture, but Dru was his everything, and Vanessa had been with the couple long enough to know that.

"Fine," Vanessa said, resigning herself to the inevitable. "I had hoped we could do this the easy way. Luckily for you, I have a plan."

Spike was already shaking his head.

"The only plan you need is a way to be out of Sunnydale before Dru gets back and recognizes your scent."

Vanessa quirked an amused eyebrow.

"Do you smell me, Will?"

"What? I'm a vampire. Of course, I smell ..." Spike paused, abruptly realizing that he didn't smell the lilac shampoo or French perfume he normally associated with Vanessa.

The vampire closed his eyes and breathed deeply, only to discover that he couldn't smell anything human.

"How did ...?"

Smirking, Vanessa reached beneath the scooped neckline of her dress and revealed a small leather pouch hanging around her neck by a piece of cord.

"Is that a hex bag?" Spike asked, curiously. Maybe she really had thought this through.

"Guaranteed to mask my scent to anything supernatural," Vanessa said proudly. "Some of Eden's finest work."

Spike raised his eyebrows.

"Eden? You brought a witch into this?"

"Oh yes," Vanessa said, smiling as she let the pouch fall back into her dress. "Once I told her you were in trouble, she was more than happy to tag along. You did save her life, after all."

"Where is she, then?" Spike demanded. "Tell her to work some of her Druid healing mojo and get me out of this bloody chair!"

"Eden can't heal a dead body, Will," Vanessa said, rolling her eyes as she reached down into her leather shoulder bag. "But don't worry, I brought something that can."

Spike's mouth watered at the sight of the blood bag Vanessa produced. Apparently, Glinda's hex bag had been masking the scent of that as well.

"I hope you brought more than one of those," Spike said, skeptically. "It's going to take more than a little blood to get me back to fighting shape."

"Even if it's Slayer blood?"

If Spike's heart didn't already beat, he was pretty sure all the shocks he'd received in the last few minutes would have stopped it by now.

"You mean to tell me this is Buffy Summers' blood?" he asked, incredulous.

"Freshly squeezed," Vanessa said slyly. "Want it?"

Spike had vamped and snatched the bag out of her hand before she even finished speaking.

"How in the bloody hell ...?" he mumbled around plastic, using his fangs to rip into the sealed bag.

Oh god ... Spike had never forgotten the taste of Slayer, but it's sheer magnificence still managed to overwhelm him every time. It even tasted good out of a plastic bag.

"Buffy's in the hospital with the flu," Vanessa explained, averting her eyes to avoid the sight of Spike slurping down his Slayer smoothie. "Sunnydale's resident Slayer is currently so delirious with fever that she barely even noticed me taking it."

"And you used your Jedi mind tricks to make sure she wouldn't remember," Spike said knowingly, pausing just long enough to wink at his girl.

"Better safe than sorry," Vanessa shrugged, looking quite pleased with herself.

"How'd she end up delirious with fever anyway?" Spike asked, his face returning to its human visage as he discarded the now empty bag.

Looking down at his legs, the vampire could feel the muscles and tendons already rapidly knitting themselves back together. He grinned devilishly. Angel wouldn't know what hit him.

"Eden cast a spell to temporarily block her healing abilities."

Spike's head snapped up at that. He huffed out a laugh.

"She cursed the Slayer? I didn't know Glinda had it in her," Spike said, suddenly having a whole new level of respect for the goodie-goodie witch.

"It was my idea," Vanessa replied, somewhat miffed at not receiving all the credit.

Spike smiled fondly at his girl—a genuine smile full of pride and affection. Unlike most vampires, William the Bloody had never felt the desire to sire any new vampires. (Other than his mother, but that had been a total disaster.) Spike didn't really think of Vanessa as a surrogate childe or anything, but he had been the one to teach her how to survive.

Leaning forward in his chair, Spike reached out to gently lift her chin with two fingers.

"Atta girl," he said softly.

Smiling in return, Vanessa asked, "So, can you walk?"

"Guess it's time to find out."

Spike let go of Vanessa and rolled backwards to give himself some room. Taking a deep breath, more out of habit than necessity, the vampire slowly lowered one booted foot and then the other to the ground. With a quick glance up at Vanessa, who gave him an encouraging nod, Spike slowly pushed himself up and out of the chair.

Vanessa quickly rose from her seat, poised to reach out and steady the vampire if needed. Concentrating, Spike took a couple of shaky steps forward, already beginning to feel more steady. Satisfied, he looked up at Vanessa and grinned.

"Couple more days of rest and real food, and I think I'll be back to my charming self."

Smiling broadly, Vanessa couldn't resist throwing her arms around the vampire's neck for a hug.

Laughing, Spike pulled his girl close, enjoying the feeling of her warm body pressed against his and wishing like hell he could lose himself in her comforting scent.

God, he was surprised by how much he had missed her, though their relationship had always been strictly platonic. He supposed she was his best friend.

Spike felt Vanessa stiffen for a moment, and the quickly break the embrace. Placing her hands on the vampire's shoulders, she pushed him back down into the wheelchair.

"Hey!" the vampire protested, suspecting she had put a little telekinetic force behind that push.

"You're still not strong enough to fight Angel," Vanessa explained, reaching down to pick up the empty blood bag and shove it back into her own bag. "We need to catch him by surprise."

Spike grudgingly had to agree with that.

"And even then," Vanessa continued. "Dru's not going to just stand by and watch you kill him."

Spike stood up to protest, but this time Vanessa didn't even use the pretense of touching him to shove him back into the chair. An invisible force simply slammed his ass back against the seat

"Stop doing that!" Spike yelped.

"It's for your own good." Vanessa was standing in front of him now, arms crossed over her chest. "I have a plan to get rid of Angel without killing Dru in the process, but it's going to take time. You have to make Angel think you're not a threat until then."

Spike shook his head stubbornly. "I may be able to fool Angel, but you can't manipulate Angelus. Mind games are his specialty."

Vanessa smiled mysteriously.

"He's not the one I'm going to be manipulating."

Before Spike had time to fully decipher the meaning of that, Vanessa leaned down and surprised him with a quick kiss on the lips.

"Trust me," she whispered into the vampire's ear, before disappearing back the way she came.

For a long moment, Spike stared after her, not even acknowledging the presence of Sunshine who had emerged out of hiding and was now whining at his feet. He didn't know what kind of game his girl was playing, but there was one thing about which Spike was absolutely certain.

Angel may have temporarily brainwashed Drusilla, but there was no way he was getting his claws into Vanessa.

Even if Spike had to make a deal with the devil himself to prevent it.


End file.
